by Clara Kensie
“And plus also,” Ember said, “Lyre got back together. We won Battle of the Bands.” She glanced at my brother. With a slight blush, she added, “Logan composed the song for us.”
My brother shrugged. “I started with the notes on the sheet music you found in Twelve Lakes.” Behind him, the sheet music floated in the air. “I decided to call it Long Journey’s End.”
I gasped, my lungs filling up with hope. “Does that mean…”
“We’re staying,” Jillian said. She smoothed a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Do you know Tristan stayed here with you this whole time?”
“He’s never left me,” I said, thinking about our time in the Underground together. I brought his hand to my lips and kissed it. “Not even once.”
“I’m sorry we tried to take you away from him,” Jillian said.
“But you were willing to leave for us,” Logan said. “So, now, we’re willing to stay for you.”
Jillian and Logan were staying. Here, in Lilybrook, in this house, with me.
Deirdre came forward and squeezed me against her chest, smothering me. But in a good way. In the best way. She was Tristan’s mother, my substitute mother, and the best mother in the world.
Dennis, looking vibrant and healthier than ever, patted my knee and kissed the top of my head. “Welcome back, honey.”
I was more than back. I was home.
Though Dennis kept Jillian and Logan updated on our father’s condition while I was lost in the fog for fifteen days, they still weren’t ready to visit him. I didn’t blame them, but now that I had conquered my Nightmare Eyes, I wanted to see him again. As soon as Deirdre declared me healthy enough to leave the house, my dad’s Underground hospital cell was the first place I went. Tristan came with me, of course. Now we stood at his bedside.
Still unconscious, still withered, still pale. He hadn’t moved from the last time I was here over six weeks ago. He remained tethered to machines, which beeped evenly. Beep… beep… beep... My presence in his cell was no longer disturbing him, because Cole was no longer able to project his hatred into him.
“I found Jillian and Logan,” I told his unconscious form. “They’re fine. We’re all living together. Us and the Connellys.”
No response, as I’d expected. But I hoped that some small part of him heard, and understood.
I opened my bag and pulled out a small canvas, painted in sweeping shades of deep blues, and propped it on the table across from his bed. I’d painted it the night before, and even though I had a tube of black, I didn’t paint the Nightmare Eyes.
“I painted this for you, Dad,” I said. “It’s the ocean. We used to go to the ocean all the time when Jillian, Logan, and I were little. Do you remember that? We were all so happy back then.”
No response, except for the rhythmic beeping of the machines. He continued to breathe evenly. In, out. In, out.
I placed my hand over his, and at my touch, his breath caught. “Dad?” I whispered. “Are you awake?”
I waited, not daring to move, to breathe, to blink. “Dad?”
I leaned closer, and Tristan stiffened. Was he having a warning premonition? Was my dad about to grab, squeeze, break my wrist? Was he mad that I was living with Tristan and the Connellys?
Then Tristan shook his head—nothing bad was going to happen—and chuckled at himself. He was just being Tristan, always on guard, ready to save the day if anything bad did happen.
My dad breathed again. My hand still on his, I closed my eyes. I wanted to share my peace and happiness with him. I wasn’t a projector, but I tried to project my contentment and serenity into him, as if they were drugs that would heal him.
“Wake up, Dad,” I whispered.
His breath caught again, and I knew, one day soon perhaps, he would wake up.
❀
The next person I wanted to visit was Lady Elke, but Mr. Milbourne reported to us that she was gone. The moment the APR learned that Cole had provoked her attack on Tristan, Melanie, and me, they released her. And just in time, too—they had been about to administer her final, permanent neutralization treatment. They’d offered her a job instead. But, distrustful and angry, she wanted nothing to do with it, and threatened to expose the APR. A mnemokinetic agent erased her memory of the entire experience, and she was sent back home to North Dakota. Her psychic powers would eventually regenerate, and she would find an anonymous, and substantial, deposit in her bank account: the APR’s confidential restitution.
Lady Elke wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life incarcerated and neutralized for a crime she did not commit. Good. She had been a victim, just like I had been. And now we were survivors.
But I wasn’t ready to leave the Underground just yet. I had one more thing to do.
Mr. Milbourne, chomping his gum, shook his head before I could even speak. “Forget it. You’re still on your mother’s refusal list. She added your brother and sister to the list too.”
“I didn’t come to visit her,” I told the warden. “I have something I’d like you to give to her.”
From my bag I withdrew a canvas I’d painted of five flowers—one for each member of our family—and a letter written on a page torn from a spiral notebook:
Mom,
I am so incredibly ashamed of all the horrible things you and Dad did. That shame made me feel tainted and tarnished and undeserving of anyone’s love.
Tristan loved me anyway. Even when I pushed him away, he loved me. His love helped me let go of that shame. I’m ashamed of what you did, but I am no longer ashamed of myself.
Despite all that, Mom, I still love you, and somewhere deep down, Jillian and Logan do too. I know you love us. That’s why you sent us away.
This is the last time I’ll contact you. But if you ever want to see me again, just send a message, and I’ll come.
Thank you for setting us free.
~Tessa
❀
Tristan and I went home for dinner, and as we walked up our driveway, a short figure in black stood at the door, about to ring the bell. Melanie Brunswick.
I hadn’t seen her since Lady Elke’s, huddling in the backseat of her uncle Kellan’s rental car.
“Hey, Mel,” Tristan called. There was affection in his tone, but it was more like he was saying hi to a good friend, not someone he had once been in love with. “I didn’t realize Lyre had practice today. You can go on in. I’m sure Ember’s waiting for you.”
“We don’t have practice until tomorrow,” she said. “I came to talk to you.”
“I’ll go inside,” I said. “Leave you two alone.”
“No,” Melanie said, “I came to talk to you, Tessa.”
“Oh. I’ll go inside then,” Tristan said. Melanie gave him a sad smile as he passed her and went inside.
She and I stood in silence, each of us looking at our shoes.
Then at the same time, we each blurted, “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” she asked.
“For dragging you into the whole Lady Elke thing,” I said.
“You were amazing at Lady Elke’s,” she said. “You sneaked out of Lilybrook on your own, flew all by yourself to another state. I would be way too scared to do that. And then, in the shed, you stayed at the door. You found a weapon. You were going to fight. I just hid in the back and cried. I could never do what you did.”
“A few months ago, I would have hidden too,” I said. “My whole life, all I did was run and hide. But I’m different now.”
She cleared her throat. “You know how I knew it was truly over between Tristan and me?”
“How?”
“When we found you behind that laundromat in North Dakota, when he saw you standing there, alone. He just…melted. He has never looked at me the way he looks at you. Never. That’s a big part of the reason it took me so long to recover from what happened at Lady Elke’s. It wasn’t all trauma. It was heartbreak.”
“I’m sorry, Melanie.”
“I’m okay
now.” She shuffled her boots, then wiped some invisible dust from her skirt. “Tristan was only with me because I needed him. But he’s with you because he wants to be.”
That was true. I didn’t need Tristan. I wanted him. He wanted me.
“Anyway. I just came by to tell you that I’m sorry I held onto him for so long,” she said. “He’s yours, and I’m okay with that now. I want someone who wants me, not someone who’s only with me because I need him.”
“Thanks, Melanie.” I gestured to the door. “Do you want to come in? It’s cold out here.”
“No,” she said. “I’m going to Winter’s house.”
“Oh, please give her our condolences,” I said. Nathan was her boyfriend, and he died saving us. “How is she?”
“She’s the one who’s heartbroken now.”
“Does she know you came here?” I asked.
“Yeah. I told her that I’m going to be friends with both of you.” She looked up from her boots and smiled.
Good for Melanie for standing up for herself. And good for me, because Melanie had just called me her friend.
❀
The next day, Tristan and I returned to the APR, and this time I insisted Jillian and Logan accompany us. There was someone I wanted them to meet.
But first I had to make sure it was okay with him. Tristan and I had my siblings wait outside his office. They agreed, Jillian already starting to cry.
Aaron Jacobs sat at the back of the narrow Technokinetics office, facing the wall. The overhead light was off; the six computer monitors stacked on his desk emitted a faint glow. He was using only one keyboard this time, and his typing rate was slower now. Passionless. I could only see his profile in the dim room, but he could not completely conceal the rough, grooved skin that covered his face behind his oversized glasses. Burn scars.
I gripped Tristan’s hand. This was going to be hard. It would be even harder for Jillian and Logan. Hardest of all for Aaron.
I cleared my throat. “Hi, Aaron.”
He flinched, then hunched over, hiding his face behind his hand. The scars covered his hand and arm, too.
“My brother and sister are here,” I said. “Can I bring them in?”
“No.”
Tristan stepped forward. “They feel really bad about what happened. They want to say sorry, and thanks.”
Aaron didn’t move.
“I told Jillian about you,” I said. “Not only how you found them, but how smart you are. How talented. How nice you are. She wants to meet you.”
He turned so I could only see the back of his head. “No, she doesn’t. She just feels sorry for me. I don’t want to meet her anyway.”
“Aaron?” The plea came from my sister, standing in the doorway. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. “It’s Jillian. Can I talk to you?”
He practically dove into the darkest corner of the office. “Get out. Get out!”
“Please let me talk to you,” she begged.
He kept his head turned away. “Just leave. All of you.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, just for a moment. “Sorry, Aaron.”
We slowly shuffled away.
The menu for Sunday brunch: crepes with strawberries and bananas, fluffy egg-white omelets, and blueberry muffins with extra blueberries.
I rubbed my hands together and set to work. The cooking supplies Dennis and Deirdre had given me for my birthday were set out on the counter. I separated the eggs with my egg-separator. I mixed the batter with my mixing spoon. I heated the crepes to perfection on my pans. Tristan offered to help, but I wanted to do it all myself. I missed cooking.
“Smells great.” Tristan came up behind me, rubbing my hip with one hand and popping a blueberry in his mouth with the other. “Can I help?”
“Nope, I got it.” I needed to cut up the vegetables for the omelets. I reached for the knife, and stopped.
I couldn’t do it. I could not touch that knife. Flashes of Cole standing over me, swiping the knife through the air…
I wrapped my hands around my stomach. I searched my mind for the Nightmare Eyes, but they were gone. I tried again, but I still couldn’t make myself touch that long, shiny, sharp, blade.
“Um, actually, will you chop the veggies?” I asked Tristan. “I need to set the table.”
“No prob.” He kissed me, then grabbed the knife and began slicing the mushrooms. Relieved, I grabbed a stack of plates from the cabinet.
“Kids, help Tessa out and set the table,” Deirdre said.
From his seat, Logan waved his hand at the fridge. The orange juice and milk floated across the kitchen and set themselves on the table.
“That’s cheating,” Ember pouted as she made three trips to bring seven glasses.
Jillian didn’t even glance at the utensil drawer. It opened on its own, and seven forks and spoons glided through the air. Dennis ducked as a spoon zipped past him. “Sorry,” Jillian mumbled. “Forgot that you’re not used to things like that.”
While we ate, Tristan teased Ember by pulling on her hair, and she stuck out her tongue at him, then grabbed the blueberry muffin from his hand. The animals scampered through the kitchen, except for Harmony the bunny, who ignored all of us. Dennis and Logan discussed internships at the APR. Tristan and I discussed the blood drive we were starting next week in memory of Nathan Gallagher. Ember, her cheeks pink, asked Logan if he’d please write another song for the band. Deirdre asked Jillian if she’d like to sign up for dance classes, and Jillian shyly replied yes.
I kept my eye on the knife, which remained on the counter, long, shiny, and sharp.
When we were done and the kitchen was clean—an easy task thanks to Jillian and Logan’s PK—Deirdre shooed everyone away, ordering us to go study. We had a lot of schoolwork to make up.
We camped out in the family room with our textbooks and notes, Tristan next to me and giving me the occasional kiss. After a while, I took a break and lifted the fog, allowing visions of happy Connelly family moments to filter through. Jillian, Logan, and I would be part of those happy family moments from now on.
The heartless thing about the past is our inability to change it. It’s too late to make any alterations.
We could not change the past. But we could take charge of our future.
Taking charge of our future meant we had a lot of work ahead of us. Jillian and Logan needed to recover from their ordeal, and they needed to get Aaron to forgive them. Tristan would try to get his job back at the APR. I would paint my murals, and maybe even use knives again.
But no matter what, my future would be spent in this cluttered, chaotic, happy home in Lilybrook, with Dennis and Deirdre, and Jillian and Logan and Ember, and two dogs, two cats, and one bunny rabbit. And with Tristan, my blue-eyed, broad-shouldered, perfectly heroic boyfriend.
My future would be spent surrounded by love.
❀
Run. Run.
Muscles aching, lungs burning, heart bursting, I ran against the April wind down a path lined with trees just beginning to bud.
It felt fantastic.
Tristan was only a few feet ahead of me. For our first jog in Lilybrook, he’d taken me to a trail that wound around Lilybrook Park. As we had in Twelve Lakes, we ran in a clockwise direction. He was almost fully up to speed, but I was still a little weak from my long, fog-induced slumber.
But I was catching up to him.
He stopped, turned, and wiggled his blue baseball cap, which he wore backwards on his head. “If you catch me,” he said, “I’ll let you keep the hat.” Then he shot off again.
That was all the inspiration I needed—the same challenge he’d issued once before, in Twelve Lakes. I’d beaten him then; I could beat him now.
I charged forward at full throttle, zooming past the budding wildflowers, feet pounding in rhythm. Left-right-left-right.
Within seconds I reached him. “Ha! Caught you!”
But he turned and caught me in his arms instead, and gave me a kiss. “Us,” he said
as he put the hat on my head. “You and me.”
And my heart echoed in rhythm: thump. Thump-th-thump.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, and together, we stumbled to a tree just off the path and sank behind it.
By the time we came out from behind the tree, clothes disheveled, hair tangled, and lips tingling, we were too tired to finish our run. We headed home instead, hand-in-hand.
THE END
Thank you for reading
Deception So #2: DECEPTION SO DARK.
Please consider leaving a review on a retail site. Reviews are vitally important for the success of a book. The more reviews this book has, the more readers will discover it, which means I can write even more books for YOU!
I hope you enjoyed Tessa and Tristan’s journey
from danger and deceit to love and trust
in DECEPTION SO DARK.
They will need that love and trust in
Deception So #3: DECEPTION SO DANGEROUS
when a psychic predicts Tristan’s death.
To save his life, and the life of everyone in Lilybrook,
Tessa must rescue him from his worst enemy.
Coming August 28, 2018 from Snowy Wings Publishing!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I started writing because sometimes I love a book so much that I never want it to end. I don’t want to say goodbye to the characters. I realized that the only way I’d never have to say goodbye to characters I love would be to write them myself. Thus, Tessa, Tristan, Jillian, Logan, Ember, Dennis, and Deirdre (and yes, even Wendy, Andy, and Kellan) were created. I wrote their first book, Deception So Deadly, and I was having so much fun and I loved the characters so much that I continued their story in this book, Deception So Dark. And now that the Deception So series is continuing indefinitely, I may never have to say goodbye to my beloved characters. And neither will you!
